


come down (for a drink or two)

by minghowie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, No Dialogue, Unhealthy Relationships, if youre not comfortable with that you might not want to read this!!!, meanie are rly only mentioned btw, minghao is an Awful Person(tm) in this im so sorr y, slight abuse!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minghowie/pseuds/minghowie
Summary: Minghao may have changed, but maybe Junhui has, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this whole fic is based on the song Is That Alright? by Ashe (ashestoashesjc on yt)!! i would definitely recommend listening to it before/while/after you read this!!! https://youtu.be/Aa-I56ZmX1Q
> 
> im sorry that this exists lmao,, i just kept picturing the story while listening to Is That Alright? and really needed to write it  
> im sorta scared that i might have romanticised minghaos actions??? and that is like the opposite of what i wanted to do oh god,, if you notice anything like that, make sure to let me know and i'll try to fix it!!!! thank u
> 
> thats rly all i have to say so!!! sorry for my crappy writing and i hope u enjoy!!!

Junhui watches Minghao stare out the window most days. Like this, sitting across from each other in a small cafe, he can watch all he wants. He doesn't want to look at anything else; it's all in Korean, something he's still so unused to after all these years. Minghao is familiar.

They've been out here most nights, but coming here during the day is new. Now, in the light, Junhui can see the way Minghao turns to stare at him instead; when he brushes his hair back, he can see how Minghao follows his hand with his eyes. He knows that he's looking at Junhui's broken nails, and that, if he were to lift the sleeve on Minghao's right arm, he would find lines that match the shape of Junhui's hand.

Junhui makes himself stop noticing.

Instead, he remembers. He thinks back to when they were younger, when Minghao pointed out the sand under his nails after a day in the sand box. They were barely 10 years old at the time, and he remembers laughing and picking the sand out carelessly, face falling in shock when he caught a hangnail. He remembers hearing laughter in the background. He remembers Minghao glaring daggers at him as Wonwoo offered to help him tidy up his nail.

Junhui stops remembering, too, but only after Minghao's hand slams down onto the table and makes him jump. When he looks up, Minghao is scowling at the counter, where Junhui sees a head of dyed brown hair retreating into the kitchen. As Minghao stands and walks out of the cafe, Junhui sighs.

Minghao may be familiar, but he is not comforting.

\--

Junhui watches Minghao stare in though the windows sometimes. It's more feeling than seeing, shivers running up and down his spine as Minghao glares him down from outside the bar. He glances over his shoulder in time to see Minghao move towards the door, and quickly downs the rest of his drink. He doesn't want to be sober for this. Minghao is angry.

He feels Minghao more than he sees him, wincing as a hand winds around his forearm, and squeezes. Minghao's voice is no more than a growl as he asks Junhui _what_ , exactly, he thinks he's doing. Junhui frowns at the bartop, and the bartender sends him a concerned glance. He shakes his head, elbowing Minghao away and raising his arm to run his hand through his hair.

Minghao's eyes flash, but Junhui can pinpoint the exact moment when he stops to follow the movement of the fresh, red mark on his forearm. Junhui can't help but think that, maybe, Minghao enjoys knowing that there will be a bruise there come morning. He can't help but think of how Minghao has changed.

Junhui thinks more.

He remembers again. He thinks of when they were 13, of the time when he'd gotten into a fight with some kids from the next class over. He'd ended up in the school infirmary with busted knuckles, and a bright, red handprint across his left cheek. He remembers Wonwoo coming over to sit beside him and pat his shoulder in comfort. He remembers Minghao staring from across the room. He remembers Wonwoo yelling after Minghao as he left, slamming the door behind him.

Junhui stops remembering as the bar door slams in the distance. The bartender still looks uncomfortable, so Junhui shoots him a shaky smile. He pulls his phone out to call Minghao, maybe to apologise. Minghao doesn't answer. Junhui orders another drink.

Minghao is always angry, but he is never sorry.

\--

Junhui watches Minghao a lot. Tonight, he watches Minghao storm around his kitchen from the lounge room. He watches as Minghao emerges with two glasses of whiskey, and places them down on the small glass table. He watches as Minghao sits downs across from him with a sigh. He looks so tired, dragging a hand down his too-pale face.

Minghao has changed.

Wordlessly, Minghao places a small, velvet box on the table between them. He sits back, takes a large gulp of whiskey, and waits. Junhui stares at the box, unmoving. Minghao frowns. He leans forward, picks up the box, and puts it down again; forcefully, closer to Junhui. Junhui flinches. Minghao's face falls, and suddenly Junhui feels like crying. He watches Minghao stand and walk out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette and inhaling slowly. Junhui stares at the box.

He doesn't want to remember anymore, but his mind betrays him. They were 17 when Minghao had walked into Junhui's room unexpectedly. He'd turned up on the doorstep out of nowhere, looking frustrated, and Junhui's mother had sent him upstairs to her son. He remembers that he and Wonwoo had been doubled over, laughing at some stupid joke. He remembers that Wonwoo had been leaning on him for support, his hand warm on Junhui's thigh. He remembers that they had been wearing matching silver bands on their fingers; ones that Wonwoo had bought in honour of their friendship.

He remembers that Minghao had left as suddenly as he'd arrived.

He remembers how Mingyu had texted him, asking why Minghao had shown up at his door in tears.

Junhui stops remembering when he catches sight of Minghao through the window, agitated, running his hands through his hair. On the balcony, in the cold night air, he looks so small; so fragile. He watches the smoke drift away in silence, sipping his whiskey. When his glass is empty, and Minghao still hasn't come inside, he smiles. With a deep breath, Junhui stands.

Junhui leaves.

\--

Minghao may have changed, but maybe Junhui has, too.


End file.
